The Fire Lord
by kittykatloren
Summary: He was the Fire Lord as much as Ozai, proud and sovereign. The burden was the same, but it shook Zuko's gentle heart more than he could take. Zuko/Katara aka Zutara oneshot.


**A/N:** Purely because Zutara is awesome. I feel like they connect on a deeper level than they can with anyone else... Anyway, I hope you enjoy the story!

**Words: **798  
**Characters:** Zuko, Katara  
**Time: **Post-AtLA  
**Genre:** Romance

**Disclaimer: **Everything you recognize belongs to whoever owns Avatar: The Last Airbender. Not me.

* * *

A flash in his eyes, a shadow falling across his face, tense shoulders and clenched fists. Katara noticed. She knew him well enough to discern when something was wrong. Something in Zuko was slipping, something that he didn't want anyone else to know about, something that he couldn't talk about.

He was the Fire Lord as much as Ozai, proud and sovereign. The burden was the same, but it shook Zuko's gentle heart more than he could take.

She stopped him one night with nothing more than a look. In the hallway after a peace conference, just the two of them, the stars and the full moon shining through the window at her back. (She did that on purpose. She had confidence now; she would not take no for an answer.)

He paused in his tracks, perhaps intimidated by the sight of her. Skin glowing in the moonlight, arms crossed, eyes narrowed. "Katara, please. What are you doing here?"

"I think you know, Zuko."

A momentary glimpse of weakness, then he was all stone again, brushing roughly past her. "I don't. I'm going to sleep."

"You're not," she said, grabbing his arm. "Not until you tell me what's wrong."

"You wouldn't understand."

"Try me."

A loud crash shook her whole body as Zuko's fist slammed into the wall behind her. He pressed almost invasively close, his gaze hot and hard. "Fine. I'll try you. Try to imagine what it's like to know everyone is watching you for the slightest mistake, judging you for your every move. Comparing you constantly to both the most evil and most good men that have ever existed. Try to feel the weight of an entire nation on your shoulders. Their successes, their failures, their dreams, their deaths. It all comes down to me, no one else, and everyone expects me to be up to the job – because if I'm not, I'm no better than my father, a monster. I finally found my way and it's crumbling before me. Try that, Katara."

He seemed to notice, now, how close their faces were, how she could feel his words on her skin like fire. He yanked his arm back to his side, looking away. And yet she didn't want him to go; she was here to touch that very fire and calm it, control it. "You are no monster, Zuko! You are a hero. Think back on everything you've accomplished, who you truly are. And if you can't remember… I can tell you."

Her fingertips brushed over the smooth skin of his scar, bringing him back. At first, he grabbed her hand and pulled it away; then, a breath. Their hands lowered, their fingers intertwined.

"I... Tell me," he said, his voice tight.

"You are a dark hero," she said, "but a hero nonetheless. You are the man who overcame your past to choose goodness and peace. You are the man who has been trusted with your family's legacy, who will shape the future. You are the man… who would have given up your life to save mine."

She lifted their hands to his chest, pressed her fingers flat against his robe. Beneath it was the scar where Azula's lightning struck him instead of her. His hand enveloped hers completely.

"You look in the mirror and you see these scars, and you think that's who you are. Broken. Burned." His heartbeat was quick and strong. "_This_ is you who are. Your heart is good, Zuko. I know. You have to trust me."

His face fell, not angrily, not shamefully. His forehead rested on hers; he was simply too tired to hold it high and proud any longer. Katara cupped his cheeks, her neck unconsciously straining, their lips a mere breath apart. Holding back, unable to close the distance, she felt rather than heard, _"I trust you."_

The Fire Lord kissed her, despite all semblances of propriety. And she couldn't help but be overwhelmed; indulging was too easy, too delightful. If he was the Fire Lord, she could be Lady Katara; it didn't matter, so long as their lips never parted and their hands never stopped moving, touching, exploring. She wanted to be that passion for him. The light in the dark he so struggled to find.

When the sun rose, Zuko rose, too. She felt him move slowly, trying not to disturb her; the moon's fall had wrapped her in a happy drowsiness. But her eager arm wrapped around his bare chest, drew him back to her, and he seemed glad to comply. A long, slow kiss brought her back to life.

"Good morning," she whispered, blinking until his face came into focus. In the warm morning light, when he smiled, his face looked smooth and whole at last.

"Good morning, Katara."


End file.
